The Gift Exchange
by shywr1ter
Summary: 0300 hours on Christmas, and an almost silent night in the squadroom, leads to a bit of enlightenment for both Tony and Tim and gives them even more to think about for the new year and beyond. Of course, with these guys, Gibbs is at least part of the issue, and Ziva isn't far behind. This year's gift, for Kagome, in SeSa NFA's exchange.


Disclaimer: Characters and situations borrowed from CBS' NCIS. No compensation of any sort sought or received.

A/N: This was my gift for Kagome in this year's Secret Santa ("SeSa") gift exchange on NFA, and was created by mashing up a few of her prompts and letting the characters run away with what was left of them. All comments or complaints welcomed, even flames!

**The Gift Exchange**

_Not a creature was stirring..._

Well, technically, that wasn't true. Tim could hear the soft, occasional sounds of a keyboard here, a mail alert there, as he sat at his desk in the darkened bullpen. But there weren't many around and they sure weren't stirring all that much.

It was 0300, December 25th. McGee's first Christmas on the holiday-duty MCRT. It had been blessedly quiet since the office officially closed for Christmas some fifteen hours earlier, and Tim indulged in a deep, lazy stretch as he finished another report and printed it for Gibbs' return next week.

Gazing around the familiar workspace as he rose to pull paper from printer, he couldn't help but think it looked and _felt_ different from their usual wee-hour sessions there at work. The lights were low and sounds of the building hushed, but they always were this time of night.

_Not like this_, he told himself. _The night shifts were bare bones crews tonight, too._ Was that it? Or was it that he felt far more relaxed on call like this than he would on a typical 3 AM morning still at the Yard, with Gibbs was on a mission and the team scrambling for some slim lead...

This duty was not what Tim anticipated when his teammates learned of his estranged relationship with his father. After all, when it came to family, he wasn't really alone ... not like the others were, like Tony or, in years past, the Boss. More than half of Tim's recent Christmases – or at least a part of them – were spent with his grandmother, or sister, or on one recent holiday weekend, both of them. He always spoke to his mother on the phone, at least, sometime during the day.

... but he had to admit that, as far as family holidays went, his sucked almost as hard as Tony's did since he and his dad had stopped talking completely.

"_So what are you doing for Christmas?" Tony had asked too casually at a crime scene some six weeks earlier. "You, uh, traveling or something?"_

_Tim shrugged and did not lift his eyes from the camera. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. Probably."_

_DiNozzo snorted immediately. "Don't lie to me McGee; I'm a trained investigator and excel at detecting dysfunctional-family holiday lies." Despite his usual, know-it-all tone, Tony's expression carried a bit of guilt and protectiveness, as if he should have known long before that Tim's family relationships were off kilter. "Besides – if you're going to be here and don't have plans, you can join me."_

"_Oh, yeah?" McGee's eyes narrowed, still not completely willing to believe DiNozzo didn't have some ulterior motive or plan to prank him. "Another holiday buffet at the casino?"_

"_Don't be ridiculous," DiNozzo snorted, "casinos are for Thanksgiving." He paused, watching McGee snap another half dozen photos, before he went on. "Actually, far more exotic," he baited. When Tim heard Tony's tone shift into a more professional one, Tim turned to look back at him, and he shrugged, "on call duty for the thirty six hour Christmas shift. It's usually pretty quiet, and if we have to spend any time on the Yard, we can probably commandeer MTAC for movies or video games. Well, unless Vance remembers the cranberry sauce incident from last year."_

And with that, Tim found himself back as Tony's SFA, if only for thirty six hours, as the pair stepped easily into the roles that Gibbs and DiNozzo had filled for several years. The traditionally voluntary on-call duty had been manned by Gibbs and various others offering their time as needed to round out coverage any given year, until, once DiNozzo became a part of the team, Gibbs informed Director Morrow that as long as Tony wanted to join him for the duty, others usually just got in the way. By the time Tim became aware of the arrangement, they'd been at it a while, and for several years McGee just assumed it was part of their assignment as SSA and SFA.

And then, three years ago, Gibbs started spending whatever time their cases allowed at Christmas with his father.

McGee chuckled to himself at Sarah's indignant response when he told her about Tony's suggestion that he join him this year, as if being asked to work the holiday was abusive, or was Tony's taking advantage of her brother's good nature. McGee knew it was impossible to explain his grudging pride that Tony had cast him in his own role, as DiNozzo stepped into Gibbs' Christmas boots. What most people would have seen as the short straw, DiNozzo would have seen as an 'atta boy' from the Boss, having a chance to pair with Gibbs, just the two of them again, as Gibbs and Franks had before, in a sort of passing of the torch. And while Tim might never feel that same level of need or devotion that Tony did for the Boss's approval, he knew what it meant to his partner and, glancing up briefly as he heard Tony's quick patter down the steps from MTAC, accepted the gift for what it was.

"BWI is closed and they think Dulles and National aren't far behind," Tony said with forced cheer, leaning over to put a paper plate at McGee's elbow, offering assorted cookies and other snacks he brought from the MTAC spread. The forecast was what had them serving out their on-call hours in the office; the threat of blizzard-like conditions meant they were better off being close to their snow-worthy emergency vehicles and back up generators if there was a case or a call out. "Whatcha workin' on, McGee? Your reports from Tuesday?"

"Nah. Just finished 'em," he stretched again and lifted a snickerdoodle from the plate. "Thanks."

"If you're really bored, you could pull some cold cases, but no one expects you to – and we can hope it's all we'll be doing between Christmas and New Year's, too." DiNozzo paced over toward the sporatically-used fax machine, just circling close enough to see if anything new had appeared while he was upstairs, a new BOLO or alert. "Or you could grab a nap down in Abby's lab if you want – no reason to stay awake if there's nothing going on." Tony moved back toward his own desk, but didn't sit, instead just stood at the corner, idly flipping through the short stack of cold cases he'd pulled out a few hours before, before perching on a corner to sort through the stack of office memos he'd ignored for several weeks, his unfocused energy telegraphed with every movement.

_That was another thing different about the feel of the place, _McGee reflected– _Tony_. Nothing much or too specific, but when he was in charge it was as if he was on just a little higher alert, more focused. _More game face, less of the usual between-case goofiness. _

_More like when he was team leader, and Gibbs was on the beach in Mexico._

Still – McGee sensed an extra restlessness in his partner, like having that game face ready with no game to play. He'd also seemed sort of distracted before holiday duty, as if he had more on his mind over the past couple weeks than just the usual investigation-and-write-up of their last few cases. Tim had a hunch that neither of them would be reviewing cold cases over the wee hours of the morning.

"You want me to go to bed and miss Santa, the first time I have a legitimate reason to stay up all night?" McGee grinned back. "No way." He was pleased to see that along with his partner's grin in response, DiNozzo seemed to settle in just a little.

"He_ knows_ if you've been naughty or nice, McGee. Sorta like Gibbs."

"I think Gibbs probably knows if_ Santa's_ been naughty or nice."

DiNozzo smirked at that, leaning back sideways toward his computer to hit a key and glance at his screen as it showed the refreshed assessment feed from MTAC, again reporting a blissfully quiet night all along the coast.

_Definitely more like when he was SSA,_ Tim reflected.

"Well, if you're staying up for Santa – any of those hot Snow Queen types on line at 3 AM, waiting to see what he leaves in their stockings? Maybe one of 'em would be interested in playing some techno-Christmas elf game with you while she waits."

Tim should have known his sour look would simply encourage Tony, especially since he seemed to be looking for a target for his pent-up energy – and, probably, something to keep him entertained to help keep him awake, given the hour – but as quickly as he regretted giving Tony a focus for his attack, he grudgingly admitted to himself that Tony's antics would probably help the time pass more quickly for them both.

"Do reindeer play their 'reindeer games' online?" Tony was rambling. "Or..." his voice shifted in a way Tim had learned to recognize, moving from his sillier, deflecting patter to a topic that he was genuinely interested in pursuing. "What about the newest adventures of L. J. Tibbs? When are we gonna learn what's going on these days with Tibbs and his band of fearsome crimefighters?"

At the surprising topic shift, McGee glanced up again, defensively wondering what had brought that up. Tim didn't think he had telegraphed his more recent irritation on that front while on duty, but Tony was very good – and McGee's frustration with his writing lately was very high. DiNozzo's expression changed immediately, but this time, on this day, it was actually more sympathetic than taunting as it had been in the past. "Ouch – crime-fighting seen better days?"

Tim hesitated, then frowned, turning back to his monitor, and punched a few keys harder than necessary as he grumped,"something about having your writing cause the death of some poor unsuspecting guys puts a cramp in your style."

Tony considered him for a moment before cocking his head. "I thought you were back to writing after all that. It's been at least a couple years..."

"...and more than a couple bodies," McGee muttered.

"You know all that was completely out of left field – no way could you have seen that coming, just sitting in your apartment inventing stories." DiNozzo reasoned, repeating much of what he'd said to his partner not all that long after they'd figured out who had been killing Tim's unsuspecting role models – and why. "If you like writing and want to get back to it, you shouldn't let that stop you."

McGee looked up again, trying to see behind the neutral DiNozzo façade. "So even _you're_ on the 'whatever happened to Gemcity' bandwagon now?" McGee shook his head. "After all the hell everyone put me through for 'invading your privacy,' writing about the team, now you _want_ me to write about us again?"

"Oh. That." DiNozzo was silent for a moment as he stared vacantly across the bullpen again, but then a small smile began to cross his features, and he glanced down at McGee, still seated at his monitor. "Well, I don't _not_ want you to write us." He grinned, turning back to survey the darkened bullpen again. "It_ was_ an interesting way for us to find out what you really thought of us. It's been a while since we were able to peer into your thoughts so readily."

"Tony? 'Fiction,' remember?" McGee repeated again, more from habit than anything.

"Which is why Pimmy Jalmer ended up with a cadaver fetish instead of a shoe thing?" McGee again regretted the day that Abby let that little tidbit slip to those not present when they'd hypnotized the hapless autopsy assistant. "What's important is that you caught the _fetish,_ McGee; you nailed his essence."

"Oh. So you were happy with Tommy's 'essence,' were you?"

To McGee's surprise, Tony hesitated just long enough that Tim knew something had hit home in his skeptical words – and, apparently, in _Deep Six_. "Happy? Hmm," DiNozzo stalled. "Well, it was enlightening to have your insights. Cheaper than a shrink, that's for sure."

Tim's eyes narrowed as he searched between the lines, suddenly seeing something he hadn't before. Maybe it was the wisdom gained in another few years with the team, maybe it was just the distance from the heady early days of big book sales. "The characters may have started with you guys, but they went from there. They were caricatures, bigger and simpler than real life. _Different_ from you guys. They weren't..." Tim slowed, suddenly realizing that the truth was closer to what Tony implied than not. "I never meant..." Words failing him, McGee looked away for a moment, to process.

"Hey – we got it," DiNozzo prodded gently, and when McGee looked up, he urged, "all of it. When you wrote it you were a probie, Probie. Given the time it would have taken to get through the publishing process, it meant that you still had stars in your eyes and were as green as that Christmas tree over there. Maybe you even started writing at FLETC, but a lot of it was done when you were at Norfolk. Coming here, you just made adjustments and rewrote it a couple times to fit the team. You were still a probie, McGee," Tony repeated, as sincere as Tim had ever seen him. "We _got_ it."

McGee looked away for the moment, and finally nodded. "You're right. It started way before I got here. Even before I was hired on."

DiNozzo hmm'd knowingly, gazing at McGee with a different, quieter expression. "You know, I always assumed Kate was in the earlier drafts," he mused. "I would have loved to see her kick your ass for whatever you did to _her_ in_ Deep Six._"

McGee actually chuckled. "I know, right?" He smiled to himself and was quiet for several moments himself before he admitted, "Special Agent Catherine Dodd." At Tony's sudden grin in response, McGee added, "'Kit' to her friends." The chuckle and nod he received from Tony in return was well worth his admission. After another moment, though, he sighed with another, more painful confession. "You guys were right, anyway. I need to write my own stuff, not just write you guys."

"Why?" Tony shrugged. "Nobody else is using us."

McGee looked up at DiNozzo with that, eyebrows raising in disbelief. "Then what was all that crap you handed me for so long?"

"Well, you weren't actually _admitting_ it back then." Tony looked across the bullpen, musing about their first awareness they'd been fictionalized. "You were still a probie; it was my job to hand you crap, especially when your explanations were so lame. I mean, you gotta be able to lie better than that for undercover work. I went with what I had." He looked back to Tim, then added,"seriously, no one other than the people around here would know that L. J. and the others weren't complete figments of your imagination."

"Sarah did," McGee grunted. "Of course, she can get a lot out of me when I'm not looking."

DiNozzo glanced out the window, eyeing the increasing snowfall, and Tim noted to himself again how in this SSA role, under his typically casual, light-hearted facade, Tony never let his attention wane, evidencing the same sense of responsibility he'd borne as supervisory agent of the MCRT or as defacto lead agent when Gibbs was elsewhere. Now that Tim thought about it, DiNozzo dressed differently too, abandoning his designer suits for a leaner, no-nonsense casual that was distinctively him, this time in black jeans and black shirt, sleeves rolled mid-way up his forearms; he was even wearing his shoulder holster again. If he'd appeared like that as SFA, Tim would have suspected that Tony knew they'd be called out to a long day in the field. For a 36 hour duty in which he was in charge, this was just DiNozzo's way of being ready. _Responsible_.

_Worth developing for Tommy_, McGee thought, if he ever did get a handle on the next story...

"You know," DiNozzo began, leaning against McGee's desk, "if you_ were_ to write us again, and were stuck for ideas – instead of writing us all in a crime sort of story, you could cast us all in some other situation. You know, free- _thinking_, like in your free-writing. You could put us all in a sci-fi story. You must have a million of those in your head, McRoddenberry. Or a western," Tony grinned, imagining it himself. McGee's snort brought Tony's attention back to the younger man. "What?"

"You're giving me writing advice now?"

"Maybe a zombie story," DiNozzo considered, staring off toward the darkened skylights. "Abby would like that. She could be the focus of that story. Or a gothic horror. Or a Victorian whodunit..."

"And you have a movie reference for every one of them."

"Don't dismiss cinematic inspiration too quickly, McMuse. It would bring them full circle – how many movies are based on novels?"

"Maybe you could_ write_ the list of them for me –_ silently_..." McGee drawled.

"You writers sure are a touchy bunch," Tony griped, without rancor. After another moment, though, Tony, spoke up again, again restless. "So tell me, McGemcity..." Once again, Tony's voice had shifted slightly, despite his attempt to keep it light, to a topic he wanted to pursue. _Seriously_ wanted to pursue. Tim didn't look back to him right away, hoping Tony didn't know he'd caught on to that little tell. He waited for more.

"... back when Gibbs was playing beach bum in Mexico ... when you were my SFA ... how much did you hate it?"

The question was unexpected, enough that Tim's head popped up, and he frowned his own question in return. "That Gibbs was gone?"

"No. We all hated that." DiNozzo didn't give McGee any time for that particular bit of guilt to arise again. "Being my SFA. Was it hell?"

Tim studied his partner's expression, sensing more than just idle conversation behind it, and his brow furrowed even deeper. "Why?" he asked, sounding more suspicious than he'd intended.

Tony's eyes rolled and his shoulders slumped a little. "Nevermind," he breathed, as he got up from the corner of his desk where he'd perched to sit back at his computer.

McGee kicked himself that he let his surprise throw him off, _knowing_ that, whatever this was, it wasn't just idle chatter for his partner. "Tony," Tim began, "it wasn't_ hell_ – and it wasn't hell no matter _why_ you asked. I just didn't expect the question, okay?" He saw Tony draw a deep breath and relax a little, though still staring at his monitor. "And it just seems like..." McGee dared, wondering if he should go any further and planning to blame the late hours without sleep if he overstepped. "...like something's up. Like it_ has_ been, with you, for a few weeks. And you wouldn't have asked if there wasn't something bugging you suddenly about it." Still no eye contact, but no other change, as DiNozzo poked a couple random keys that couldn't have done anything useful. "So ... has somebody said something about ... something?"

The remaining tension in Tony's shoulders didn't completely disappear, but the audible sigh of the breath he'd held raised McGee's curiosity even more. Tony finally looked back at him. "No. Not directly. Just ... something related." Tony seemed to reconsider raising whatever it was again, then finally turned his chair to face Tim directly, and leaned forward, forearms on his knees. After another moment, he asked, his voice low, "if you were offered a spot as my SFA again – say, if it were_ here_, and Gibbs were gone again – would you take it?"

Tim's eyes narrowed at the surprising question, but the last time he'd asked why, he nearly shut down all communication from Tony on the topic, not what he wanted to have happen now. So he hedged, "yeah, if the team was yours again, and we were here... yeah."

"You don't sound too convinced."

"I am. About the job. But ... I mean, it's kind of hard to speculate, not having all the specifics. The SFA part is fine, Tony; it's good. It's great, that you'd ask – if you were asking. It's just the other stuff, like if Gibbs_ were_ still here, and you were talking about relocating or something. I'm better at sounding convinced if I know what I'm talking about."

The ploy didn't work; Tony didn't suddenly offer more to fill in the blanks. Just the opposite; he 'hmm'ed to himself and let his eyes drop from Tim's, clearly mulling something over. Tim looked at him suspiciously and tried, "did Vance offer you your own team again?"

"Not exactly," Tony deflected. "Okay then, here's another question you won't like: what if you were on an MCRT and the team included a non-field agent, who sometimes came out in the field, sometimes didn't..."

"...oh, you mean like me, when Gibbs wants me on computer searches, while you and Ziva get to go shake down the suspects?"

Tony started to protest that he was being serious, when he saw that, for the most part, Tim was too. He relented, nodding, then added with a shrug, "yeah. I didn't think of that. But you always go when we're called out to a new scene, and you're field rated. And perfectly capable of shaking down suspects." He peered at his partner, waiting. "So – what would you think about that arrangement?"

Tim wasn't sure where Tony was going with things, but considered his question. "Well, we usually have Ducky and Palmer with us at a call out, and they're not field agents. They don't come armed. It wouldn't be like we aren't used to having others with us." Tim was feeling uneasy with where the questions seemed headed. "Tony ... you know something, don't you? Is this about the team? Is Vance breaking us up again? I thought all that was just because of Lee, that..."

Tony held up his hand as he shook his head. "Not Vance, exactly," he said again. Pausing another moment, he appeared to make up his mind about something, and McGee knew at that moment that Tony had decided to confide in him. "You know that the mandatory retirement age here is fifty seven, right?" Tony barely paused – after all, as entering probie McGee had all the handbooks memorized. "The director can approve a year by year extension – until age_ sixty_." This time he did pause, knowing that McGee would see where he was going and zip on past. "The director can also authorize employment as special support services for those post-retirement age, also on an annual basis."

"Like Ducky." At Tony's nod, McGee asked the previously unthinkable. "..and ... Gibbs?"

"Sixty this year. Or – the new year. A few months away." Tony looked away, staring across the room, seeing his thoughts rather than anything in the room with them. "Director Vance called me in a couple weeks ago. He said that if Gibbs wants it, he's willing to approve him again as long as he's still healthy and wants to be here, but under special services, and call him an investigations expert, I guess."

McGee frowned. He would have thought the news would make Tony happy, Vance finding a way to keep Gibbs on the job – unless DiNozzo_ wanted_ Gibbs gone, so he could finally take back the team? Tim didn't want to think that was possible. "So ... this is good news, right? Vance actually working to keep Gibbs here? So we can go on just like always, like nothing's changed – and this is just a formality, for HR?"

"Not that easy." His edginess showing itself again, DiNozzo got up and paced again to the fax machine he'd checked only a few minutes ago, despite its silence since midnight. Not really registering the still empty tray, Tony stood staring into the machine, suddenly unmoving again. "He wouldn't be a field agent," he began speaking so softly that McGee had to strain to hear him. "And if he's not a field agent, he can't be a supervisory special agent. If he can't be SSA, then we need a new one – and Vance has offered me the job." Suddenly he looked to McGee, and Tim was moved by the mix of pain and loss in his partner's eyes. "He's offering me the job I've always wanted, when Gibbs was ready to give it up, the one I've waited for and passed up other postings to get. But not this way. Not with Gibbs being forced into retirement and re-posted as an afterthought." DiNozzo glanced away again, clearly frustrated the most by the one thing none of them could change — the effect of time on all of them. "Either they toss him to the curb, and he gets to watch me take over his team, or they throw him a bone, let him watch me take his place – and he's got to answer to me, as the SSA of the team he's allowed to 'support.' Does that sound like _anything_ Leroy Jethro Gibbs will tolerate?" He poked absently at the machine. "And it will look like it's all my doing."

McGee let the scenarios play in his head and he got it immediately – he knew why Tony saw the situation as grim. " It's not like you made the rules, or made him be sixty, and he knows that. And he knows you – he knows how you feel about him and his skills as an investigator. Besides – you've managed it fine before. What about when he came back from Mexico, when Ziva was framed for that hit in Georgetown? Or when Paulson escaped, and he came back to help Fornell – you were SSA but Gibbs was involved, and it all worked out."

Tony blinked at him a moment, and Tim saw a brief look of wounded disbelief flicker in his eyes before he settled his features again. "Well," Tony suddenly sounded vague and distant. "Maybe he won't want to come in under those terms and will just retire." He turned to go back to his desk, again settling in at his computer, reaching for one of the cold cases in his stack and opening it quietly.

McGee wasn't sure what he'd said to make Tony shut down, but clearly he'd hit a nerve, or – or something, but McGee wasn't sure what it was. "What?" he tried. DiNozzo wasn't pouting or pissed; he was noisy whenever he was either. This was ... different. "Tony, what?"

Tony took a breath, thought better of it, paused a moment, then said, "it's hard to explain."

"Try me."

DiNozzo paused again, clearly wanting to say something, but something else was holding him back. He finally laughed softly, without humor, "it's not something that is_ explained_, McGee. If you don't see it yourself, you won't if I explain it, either."

Tim tried his best Gibbs glare and while it may not have been all that close, his silence got Tony to keep talking.

"Gibbs came back and took over the lead on those cases. We all wanted him back anyway, and we had great help from him on those cases, and we got the bad guys. But ... Gibbs took _lead_. We fell into our old patterns and he took lead, no matter how anything was said or who was giving orders. And you're right – if it was still our team, and Gibbs joins us, we'd be likely to fall back into what's comfortable, under his lead. And..." Tony sighed, quietly, "I can't let that happen again. Not as SSA."

"Why not?" Tim blurted. "Why not, Tony? If Gibbs is still qualified and good at what he does, and it lets him continue with the team,_ why not?_"

DiNozzo was quiet again, his expression again carrying a pain that McGee couldn't follow. "Tim," he began, then stopped. A moment later, he asked, "what about the same scenario, but having Stan Burley as your SSA? I don't know if he would want to bring on his own SFA but I'm happy to recommend you; I bet Gibbs would too. And we all know Vance loves you..."

"And where would you go?" McGee demanded.

His reply was a shrug and a vague, "I dunno. Whatever Vance might have for me."

McGee felt his anger rise at that. "Well, I didn't want to believe it – but you really would quit the team if you couldn't have total power over us all, if Gibbs still could be a part of things? You couldn't just suck it up and let him stay with the team – for _Gibbs_?"

The look he saw in reply told McGee he'd really misjudged things. The renewed silence made him think he might never know what the problem was – but, finally, Tony tried once more.

"I could go to a team who hadn't worked with me as a peer agent. If I went in as SSA, either to a team assigned to me or to one I choose from Vance's candidates, they would understand I was their supervisor – and understand that the chain of command applies with me, just as it has for Gibbs with _us_." He looked back to McGee at that, clearly looking one last time to see if any of it was dawning on his former probie yet. Either for something he saw there – or from his own, deeply held desire to stay with his team, his_ family_ – he added softly, "I've always wanted input, McGee; I want to hear thoughts and opinions and ideas, just like Gibbs wants from us. But what team leader needs, along with that, is a team who knows that once a decision is made, it's time to stop questioning orders and follow them – and a team who doesn't have lingering doubts about whether or not their SSA is ready for his own team." He watched McGee closely in the hope that he might understand – and in fear that he would not. "Like_ we_ are ... with Gibbs."

"Tony, we never doubted..."

"I can't effectively lead a team who questions my decisions and acts as if everything we do can be open to debate," DiNozzo pressed on quietly, eyes now averted, as if to avoid whatever denial McGee hoped to make. "What's the old line, 'familiarity breeds contempt?' It helps explains why NCIS usually moves a newly promoted SSA to a different duty station – they arrive with at least a basic level of authority and deference conferred by the promotion. When you're moved internally from being one of the guys to SSA of the same team – well, I guess it's more likely to fail than succeed."

McGee looked at his partner, at the carefully neutral expression he saw there now, his lingering disbelief nibbled smaller as he remembered one moment, then another and another, of those months they spent reeling from Gibbs' abrupt departure. "Is that how you saw that time? A failed attempt? Tony, our closure rate remained the same as when Gibbs was there. We picked up from where he left us and we went on. The Director was very pleased..."

DiNozzo wouldn't meet his eyes, but just nodded, still saying nothing more.

"Tony?"

"Look – water under the bridge, either way. I guess we wait for Vance to talk with Gibbs first, see what he wants to do, if he wants to stay on in a new capacity with the team or not. From there..." He paused again, weighing his words. "I guess I have to decide if I would rather stay in DC or start over somewhere else ... and if we need to adjust personnel or not."

"You'd break up the team?"

Tony's voice sounded distant and sad in reply. "Not me, McGee. The calendar. The team is broken up when Gibbs leaves again."

"But you've just said he might not have to leave, not yet."

Standing again, looking exhausted suddenly with McGee's failure – or refusal – to get his point, Tony half smiled, sadly, and shrugged, "I suggested to Vance that Burley might be a good fit – he's got the rating and experience for SSA, and he spent five years with Gibbs. Ducky and Abby love him. You and Ziva would have a new SSA who wasn't so familiar that you'd forget the chain of command. Maybe it wouldn't make a difference, but in this job – and with you guys – I don't want to take the risk that it would raise its ugly head at the wrong time." He swung his chair back under his desk. "I'm gonna check back in with MTAC."

"Tony, wait," Tim tried. "Tony..."

As his partner kept moving, only half waving a hand in response, to round the staircase and start the climb up toward the second level, McGee hesitated only a moment before jumping up too and grabbing his backpack, growling to himself that he really didn't want to do this, not like this. "DiNozzo!" He yelled, dropping his pack on his chair.

Wearily, Tony stopped on the landing to look down at McGee, still digging in his backpack, and watched as he emerged with his car keys. Flipping the keys around the ring, McGee grabbed one of the keys, twisted it, and jammed the end into a UBS port and started typing in short, staccato bursts.

"Look – you asked about L. J. Tibbs and what his team is up to?" McGee called over his shoulder to the man watching him from the landing above him. "Here – " Tim punched another key and his printer started its whir. "In about twenty five pages, _here's _what they've been up to. And how they've changed, what they're like now. And ..." McGee hesitated, uncomfortable now what he had

Tony's full attention, "what the team thinks of Special Agent Tommy, both as a partner – and as a team leader." As Tony wavered at the railing, uncertainty now replacing the weary frustration from moments before, Tim grabbed the first couple pages off the printer and, aware that after this moment there'd be no going back, waived them toward Tony before putting them on the acting SSA's desk. "My publisher and editor needed a synopsis for my next book, and ... this was what I wrote." He paused only a moment before adding, "I couldn't give it to them, though." He turned to look up to Tony, who still stood on the landing, unmoving. "It seemed too ... real. Too personal. Too much like what L. J._ Gibbs_ and team have been doing," he said softly. "Too much like what's happened these past few years." He looked away, now the one who found it hard to make eye contact. "You need to know that _this_ what you'd find now, if you looked at things from another's perspective. Or if you looked at the next Gemcity novel. And ... what you'd find, if you were our SSA again."

When he looked back up, Tony's intensity had lessened, and he looked as if he feared what he might find in Gemcity's words as much as he wanted to know what McGee saw in him – in all of them – now. Understanding the dilemma – after all, he'd felt that sense of 'no return,' too, offering DiNozzo a peek at his precis – McGee said, "look – I'll go downstairs and make us a fresh pot of coffee – that pot's been cooking for longer than is healthy, anyway. After that I'll go check in with MTAC, get their updates, and see if they have any weather bulletins out. You..." he shrugged, "can read. If you want."

With that, McGee dropped his keys back in his backpack, dropped his pack on the floor – and, without looking back, walked toward the stairwell to head toward the break room.

* * *

With the pot of coffee to make and his visit to the skeleton crew in MTAC, lingering a little longer than usual to give DiNozzo both the time and space he might want to read his synopsis, McGee had been gone almost thirty minutes before he decided it was time to get back upstairs. Detouring back to the break room to see the new pot still full, Tim quickly prepared a cup for each of them and headed back up to the bullpen. He hoped things would be taken as he'd meant them, knowing there was more there than just the team and what he'd wanted Tony to see, but also knowing that he never would have convinced Tony of anything had he stopped to edit, and he wasn't ready to let the night pass without clearing things up for the man. In the circumstances, handing over his synopsis, just as it was in the privacy of his unedited writing, might serve to convince the self-deprecating agent what his former – and possibly future – SFA saw in him, without censor.

Coming back to the dimly lit squadroom, Tim saw his partner at his desk, still reading –_ still?_ McGee knew that Tony read much faster than that. Did he balk at reading before settling down to take a look? Did he read part way and stop, for whatever reason?

Swallowing his questions, McGee came up to DiNozzo's desk. "Hey." He put one of the coffees on Tony's desk. "Fresh coffee, and an all quiet from upstairs. Dulles and National did close, but the snow ought to stop in another hour or so – the storm lost steam instead of building over the Alleghenies, so we'll get only about half of what was predicted, maybe eight to ten inches."

Tony didn't look up immediately, but when he did his expression was again hard to read – this time a mix of uncertainty and question and doubt – but not anger and, to Tim's relief, not the painful weariness there earlier.

"So – you're reading it?"

"Read it. A couple times. Just going back..." Tony sounded as uncertain as he looked.

But when he said nothing else, McGee prodded, "...and? Did it tell you anything? Did it help any?"

"Well, I ..." DiNozzo stopped, frowning. "That's what you think, all of this, here? What MacGregor was saying and thinking, that was you, about us?" At Tim's nod, he balked, "well, okay, fine ... but you couldn't know what the others were thinking, right? I mean, it's not like you can read minds..." He looked up at McGee and frowned again. "You can't – can you?"

"No, but I see things. _Hear_ things. Some people think I'm a good listener," Tim baited smugly in his relief as he went to sit at his desk. At least Tony was more curious and skeptical than anything now, a much more DiNozzo state of being than the frustration and sadness Tim had seen before.

"_What_ people, McGee?" Tony demanded, and seeing Tim's teasing grin in response, grumbled, "there are no 'people...'"

McGee relented. "'People,' Tony. Your co-workers and teammates. And ... what's there is too close to things. To _us,_ all of us. What's there is from what I saw or heard from everyone we work with, every day. And it became too much_ us_, too real_._ I couldn't put that on the market, not even if _no_ one ever made the connection."

"What ... like Lisa's boyfriend 'Daniel?' And her op gone bad in ..." Tony looked down to check, more for effect than for confirmation, before going on, "Moscow? Not that I'd want to be on the bad side of the law there, but not exactly the same as being terrorist's captive in Somalia, is it, McGee?"

McGee's expression darkened a little, and he glanced away for a moment before shaking his head. "I couldn't. _I couldn't._ I mean, her being a prisoner, and being rescued, is such a big part of who we are now – and who those characters are. But ... Ziva is still so private about it all, I just ... it had to be something that let her walk out of there, maybe a little thinner, but not ..." He shook his head again. "Not the rest. So for a change, that part of the book would be less melodramatic than reality, but..."

He trailed off, and in an apology of sorts, DiNozzo grunted a very Gibbs-like, "hey." When Tim looked up, Tony nodded, "you did the right thing. I mean, no matter what you end up writing, dead-on close to us or not, published or not ... that's not something that should just be ... thrown out there." When he saw Tim's appreciative nod, he looked back to the synopsis and tried, "so. Other than Somalia, then ... you think that the rest of this is what's really going on for Ducky? Or Vance? Or Gibbs, even, the way you have them here?" At McGee's nod and small smile, DiNozzo looked away again to consider the glimpse he'd been given into the minds of those around him. If nothing else, McGee reasoned, it had to show Tony what he knew about the team, and what he'd picked up from the others about Tony. And the good news was that it was just that –_ good_ news. Good enough to let DiNozzo believe that, if he kept them on track, and if he showed them he was the boss he knew he could be now ... maybe they could beat the odds and still work as a team. _His_ team. With Gibbs or without.

"Tony ..." Tim spoke again, interrupting his emerging hopes. "You were thrown into the job when Gibbs was critically injured and we had a terrorist on the loose. No one thought it was anything more than temporary for a long time after Gibbs left, not even you. We were all a few years younger on the job – and definitely less experienced. Ziva was still full-bore Mossad and hadn't even been with us a year, and – and we were all so wrapped up in shock and disbelief and missing Gibbs we hadn't noticed that you really_ were_ our SSA.

"We've been though a lot together since then. We're not the same people we were then. I would hope that no matter the circumstances, and no matter how awkward or uncomfortable to start – we'd find our way. You're right that the most important thing is our safety – and I don't think I could ever find someone I could trust more than you guys to have my six. And if you don't feel that way about me, Tony – well then, I have some work to do. Starting now, and no matter what happens with the team later."

McGee watched Tony as levelly as he could as he watched his partner process his words. After several moments, and looking a bit emotional, DiNozzo chuckled uncomfortably, "wow, McGee, that was some speech. You oughta be a writer or something."

"Meant it, too."

"Yeah. Got that," Tony glanced up and away again, then nodded. "Thanks, Tim."

"You're sworn to secrecy on this, though, or I will use everything I ever learned from Ziva to incapacitate you."

Another chuckle. "From Ziva? Ouch. Got that too." Tony was quiet for several moments and, looking as if he were trying to keep his features neutral, and dared, "and, hey," he nodded down to the pages he still held. "How about that Lisa, huh? _Lisa?_"

Tim had known it was coming. He simply raised his eyebrows, innocently.

"I mean – Lisa? And ... all that, her ... her punching out her boyfriend, Jay Cluze? I mean, that was brilliant. And I certainly hope that you include_ that_ in the next book; I'd think it could be a chapter of its own, maybe even two or three." Tony nodded, rambling, before he could go on, "but ... _after._ _**Lisa.**_ And the whole cliffhanger thing at the end, setting up the book to come after _that?_ Her admissions to MacGregor, and her going to see Tibbs, and then at the very end, the final lines of the book, when she leaves Tibbs' place and set off for ... for..."

"Agent Tommy's place."

"_Yeah."_ DiNozzo laughed awkwardly, "I mean – what's up with _that?_" DiNozzo again laughed a nervous laugh, watching McGee closely. "I thought you said this one was true to life."

"I think you're going to have to decide what you're gonna do about Rule 12 again, Tony." McGee smiled sagely. As he watched DiNozzo try to backpedal out of his hopeful, stammered interest, he nudged, "give it up, Tony. Whatever you say, I've had a front row seat to that particular floorshow for over seven years now, and your actions – and Ziva's – speak a lot louder and a lot truer than your words. It's just taken a while for the two of you to grow up."

The breath Tony had been holding was suddenly barked out with Tim's inclusion of Ziva in his last words. "Ha, so _she_ had some growing up to do?" He grinned – almost in relief, but mostly with what McGee's – or, Gemcity's – new synopsis told him about things.

"You've earned the D.C. MCRT, Tony," McGee said sincerely. "And if anyone needs to leave the team when we reorganize, let me go."

"McGee..."

"Maybe just temporarily, so you can get the team on track, a few of us at a time." At DiNozzo's renewed skepticism, Tim continued, "look, Vance suggested a year or so ago that if I want to look at my own team someday, or want to move on up the ladder past that, I need to add to my jacket." McGee laughed wryly, "he even said I could 'take a few months afloat, like DiNozzo did.'" His grin widened at the rolled eyes he knew he'd see. "I just need to find a way to do it on dry land."

"I just _knew_ somehow Vance thought he was doing me a favor with all that." DiNozzo muttered.

"And now he's offered you the team." McGee nodded. "So maybe he was, and he hasn't had it in for you after all."

"Well, I'll be damned," DiNozzo murmured. "Well, there'll be no quitters on our team – not unless you want to go, temporarily or permanently. Don't forget what started this conversation, McGee" he nodded to the younger man. "I asked about what you thought about being my SFA – if it was awful, and if you'd want the job again. If you would – I'd like to have you there. No one else knows about the change coming, and I haven't asked anyone else yet. A team starts with the SSA, but the senior field agent comes in right on his heels. If you're interested, we start now, working toward that. We cover what an SFA needs to do – all of it, not just what I had you picking up while Gibbs was away."

McGee met the green eyes looking to him again for his response – but with a new resolve there and, McGee noted with pride, a newly settled confidence. A slow smile crossed his face. "I had a hunch you'd say I wasn't doing the whole job yet."

Tony shrugged. "Extenuating circumstances."

"Why do I have a feeling that a lot of it will involve another half dozen or so reports?"

"Just to warm up, McTriplicate. And look," Tony said quickly, "any time you need for mulling over, or checking on options, or..." he shrugged, "whatever. And for waiting to see what Gibbs wants to do. You'll have some time to decide."

"And what about you?" Tim grinned. "Rule 12?"

"Do I have to decide_ now?_" Tony stalled. "Will that make a difference about your being my SFA?"

"Might," McGee grinned. "You never know which of our co-workers might be interested in getting coffee sometime soon ..." They heard a distant ding as the elevator started to move, and McGee glanced over that way. "Like, _very_ soon?"

"No way," DiNozzo stood up, adrenaline back shooting through him as if it was hours before, and extended his arm in an exaggerated point toward the silver doors, still closed. "It's barely 5 AM and there's a moderately severe winter storm out there. Who would be crazy enough..."

The doors opened and with the fresh scent of winter wind and snow still swirling around her, Ziva swept in with a large, foil covered box and a wide, cheery smile. "Ho, ho, ho!" she announced.

"What happened to 'buh hum bog?'" Tony asked. "And what happened to your better judgment? It's still the middle of the night and, I assume you noticed, has been snowing heavily enough that most sane people would watch from inside – starting about five hours from now."

"My team is on duty, it is Christmas – and I was awake. Instead of a morning run ..." she reached into her box, "I decided to make a coffee run." She pulled out a large thermos, and continued, "to go with the ... traditional? ... cinnamon rolls..."

As she pulled out the plate of sweet-smelling rolls to the men's moans of delight, McGee caught Tony's eye and mouthed, 'co-worker? ... coffee? ... Rule 12?'

"So? Any calls?" Ziva asked brightly. When both men shook their heads no, mouths full, Ziva asked, "well then, how have you passed the time? Not squibbling, I hope."

Swallowing quickly, Tony tried, "squabbling, you mean? Or maybe quibbling. Either way, no, we've had a quiet night all around." He smiled innocently at her. "Right, McGee?"

"Right," Tim nodded, fairly convincingly, Tony thought, as he nodded along with McGee.

Ziva narrowed her eyes and looked from one to the other. "You are up to something, you two. If you want the rest of this breakfast you had better let me in on your secret."

"Well, depends," Tony temporized, peering into her carton. "What's in there?"

"You may never know," she snapped, a twinkle in her eye. "But there _may_ be some protein to counteract all the sugar and caffeine you've been living on since lunch yesterday."

"Since dinner, but great idea, Ziva," McGee beamed. "Would you really hold out on us, just because we have nothing interesting to confess?"

She looked at him as she might a suspect, giving him a closer look, then relented. "You will confess something, McGee. You and Tony always do."

"Me?" Tony protested. "Since when?"

McGee hid his smirk. Ziva looked wholly satisfied, and reached back into the box to pull out a large, rectangular, foil covered dish. "I did not pack plates or forks, but there should be plenty in the break room..."

"I'll go," McGee said, throwing a meaningful glance at DiNozzo. "He'll fill you in," he grinned to Ziva, chuckling as he heard Tony's comic protests behind him.

This time when he left for the breakroom, McGee planned to pick up the plates, forks and napkins he needed and get right back to his partners. He'd volunteered so Tony would have a few moments alone with his ninja, but it was clear that while he might be ready to be SSA, he wasn't ready to press things with Ziva. But that was okay – McGee not only had Tony's back, he'd plotted it all out for Tommy and Lisa. And though even Tony wouldn't be likely to follow his 'script," – it _was_ kind of out there, even for those two, he grinned proudly to himself, still pleased with that plot twist – that was okay too, because he'd at least poked the bear, and miracle of Christmas miracles, the bear didn't bite. He didn't even deny the attraction.

Plates and the rest in hand, McGee headed back toward the stairs and his partners. Just as Tony had said, they could start work_ now _on his role as Tony's SFA, no matter what Gibbs might decide for his retirement. And it sounded like the first project on tap just might be rewriting a Rule or two...

* * *

_Hope everyone had a glorious holiday season, and that 2013 is starting off for you just as you hoped! _


End file.
